


all that we think we know

by tatou



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Epilepsy, Gen, JackRabbit - Freeform, Jackrabbit Week, M/M, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatou/pseuds/tatou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles for jackrabbit week on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. promising so much

**Author's Note:**

> title from city and color's the hurry and the harm.
> 
> this drabble is based off a prompt i did on the kinkmeme: 'As a way to bring an element of mini bunny into a Human AU, I figured Aster would have to have some sort of medical condition, one that when it overtakes him leaves him feeling weak and vunerable, epilyspy or something similar that can be managed with medication or diet or something.
> 
> So I would like to request a fic where Jack and Bunny have recently started dating, Bunny has not yet brought up his condition because his last partner had said some pretty nasty things during their breakup about his condition (in fact the breakup occured pretty soon after an episode when he was feeling particularly vunerable), so he's trying to put it off because he feels really embarassed and uncomfortable with it.
> 
> But while on a date, or a weekend away or something, Bunny has an attack, maybe he does something he knows he shouldn't which results in a fit or collapse, or something. Jack panics (but it's ok, he's a kids doctor, he can deal with this), and afterwards they have a talk about Aster hiding important information, and some comfort when Jack finds out why he didn't want to tell him.
> 
> Just because I sort of need this right now. Other characters can put in an appearance, but I'd like the focus to be on Bunny's condition and how Jack reacts to the whole situation.'

The date goes like this- Jack orders them a pepperoni pizza, and Aster has a fit.

 

It's not over the pizza, or anything in particular. He's just sitting there smiling, and then he lets out an odd cough. Jack turns to look just as his eyes just roll back into his head and he goes slack in his chair, and begins to convulse.

 

Someone takes notice and screams, prompting everyone nearby to turn and look. Their waiter stares in horror as Jack forces himself not to panic and lunges across the table, pulling Aster upright. His fingers don't shake as he unbuttons Aster's shirt and tugs it away from his neck should his throat close up; placing his hand on the back of his head, he guides Aster to lean against him, does his best not to clutch too hard at him as he continues to seize.

 

His frustration with the situation peaks when his hands get tangled in Aster's sweater as he tries working it off of him in case he overheats. “Get me a goddamn ambulance!” He screams, and the waiter drops his pad on the table and runs for the phone behind the counter.

 

Swallowing hard as he tries not to meet the eyes of anyone else in the restaurant, Jack wishes he'd known (how can Aster not have told him about this? they've been dating for _months_ ), that this hadn't happened, that the waiter had called for the ambulance right as the seizure had begun instead of freezing up.

 

Jack shouldn't be scared. He works part time for a pediatrics clinic: he sees sick people every day, all kinds of maladies and injuries. He's seen things like this before, and he knows the most practical thing to be in these scenarios is calm, and efficient.

 

But Aster isn't a kid, and Jack _is_ afraid, and the way the restaurant has broken into shocked whispers and the manager has been called out to see what's going on and the way there are people leaving, shaking their heads in disgust and griping about public indecency like Aster did this to _bother_ them are all taking a toll on his nerves.

 

Aster shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

 

*

 

The fit stops long before Aster reaches the hospital, but it leaves him drained. He passes out inside the ambulance from sheer exhaustion.

 

He's given a bed to rest in for a few hours. Doctors come and examine him and take his blood pressure and monitor his heart rate- they tell Jack he's fine for now, and Jack knows. He nods anyway; he walks to a nearby deli to buy them both some sandwiches.

 

It's obvious now that this is something Aster wanted to hide. When Jack returns to the hospital, he's awake, searching the room for his wallet and keys.

 

“The doctor said you should rest.”

 

Aster shakes his head. He takes his things from Jack's outstretched hand, tucking them into the pockets of his jeans. “I'll rest better at home.”

 

Jack doesn't argue. “I got you some food.” He says, holding up the bag.

 

But Aster isn't looking at him, and Jack knows he's embarrassed. Of his seizure, that Jack knows, and that he looks sickly, tired.

 

He needs space to recollect himself, so Jack gives it to him.

 

“Go eat in the cafeteria.” He says, pressing the bag of sandwiches and iced tea into Aster's hands. “I'll be outside, okay?”

 

Aster gives a curt, grateful nod.

 

*

 

Before they leave, Aster is given a new medication prescription. The kind he'd been using before hadn't apparently been very effective: this new one will help, they tell him.

 

He exits the hospital and sucks his cigarette down to the filter far enough away from the loading bay to not get scolded. He ducks his head when Jack comes up to him, their jackets under his arm.

 

It would be stupid to ask Aster why he didn't tell Jack. It's a selfish question: _why didn't you tell me?_ _How could you hide something like this from me_ _?_ when it should be _H_ _ow can I help you? Are you alright?_

 

“Guess this is it, then.” Aster says, grinding out the cancer stick on the outdoors ashtray and flicking it into the bin. “Sorry about- you know.”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about, 'cause I'm not going anywhere.” Jack replies crisply. He hands Aster his jacket and avoids the Australian's look of confusion.

 

It's not hard to pick up on the dejection in his stance and demeanor; someone before has left Aster because of his episodes, and he is expecting the same to happen here.

 

“Oh?” He says, voice strained.

 

Aster slips into his jacket, eying Jack in silence. His hand looks unsteady as he reaches back into his jeans pocket, tugs another cigarette out of the carton. It isn't hard to understand this either- the nicotine, however harmful, helps calm him. Jack closes the space between them, pats Aster's pockets until he finds the lighter. Flicking on the tiny flame, he twines his free hand into Aster's as he lights the cigarette.

 

“I'm not going to leave you because you're epileptic.” Jack says, and Aster flinches visibly at the word. He's as legible as words on a billboard: he hates that he has it. He's let his fear of his affliction override his life.

 

“He told me he didn't want me on his conscience if I died.” Aster explains, closing his hand over Jack's so that they hold the lighter together. “He thought he was the one what was triggering them.”

 

Jack waits to let Aster inhale and blow out the smoke before kissing him, cupping his jaw to will out the tension and to reassure him that none of that will ever happen again. The smell doesn't bother him: he can tell Aster only smokes after a fit- he would reek of it if he did more frequently. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

 

“No.” Aster replies, holding the cigarette between two fingers at his side. The smoke is acrid; wisping over Aster's face like a veil come to take him away. It hangs there for a minute before a breeze comes and scatters the smoke curls, revealing him to Jack once again. He's smiling, a little sadly. “I reckon you wouldn't.”

 

Jack leans into the taller man's shoulder, cheek rubbing against the leather of his jacket as his chin rests on the threadbare Henley he wears underneath.

 

Aster sighs; his right hand comes up to splay its long fingers between his shoulder blades. “This mean you're staying, then?”

 

“Someone's gotta take care of you.”

 

“' _Gotta_?' You're not my nurse.” Aster chuffs, taking another drag. He sounds hurt. “I meant if you were sticking around. With me.”

 

He's being gruff, but Jack understands this is a delicate area for Aster. And though Jack knows for a fact the Australian loves him, he also knows that Aster and feelings are things that don't always go well hand in hand.

 

“I am sticking around.” Jack stretches onto his tiptoes to kiss what looks like the tenderest part of Aster's throat. “I _do_ have to take care of you, because I want to and because I want you to be okay. It doesn't mean I think you're weak.”

 

Their bodies sway a little as Aster drops the cigarette and grinds it out. His other arm completes the half-circle he's had on Jack almost timidly, and it feels perfect, because it feels like he doesn't want to let go. “So you do love me, then.”

 

Jack counts three birthmarks on Aster's neck. He touches the skin, imagines waking up next to Aster and seeing him in that personal twilight of half-sleep, peace embodied. They've been dating for two and a half months- not nearly long enough to move in together, but it's a beautiful thing to imagine, to Jack.

 

He kisses each birthmark, and then the tears that collect on the underside of Aster's jaw. It's a remarkable testament to how madly in love he is with Aster and how well he understands him that he knows what the tears mean, and that he knows there'll be soft murmured apologies later when they're in Aster's apartment and that things will be settled. Aster has trouble emoting sometimes- it's not like he does it on purpose.

 

So short a time together and he already knows how Aster works, the things he will say before he says them and what his gestures mean. And if the way Aster looks at him, holds him and kisses him and texts him awake with _'rise and shine,_ _love_ ' every morning is any indication, it's just the same likewise.

 

Aster's lips brush his cheek; he mouths three words there that burrow into Jack's heart and there make a comfortable home. “That's what I said.” Jack replies.

 


	2. take a call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know how he's going to get back to the classroom decent again- wanking off in an unused closet like a hormonal sixteen year old is the peak of his unprofessional career. It'd almost be something to laugh at if he weren't so goddamn hard, pawing at himself through his clothing like he hasn't been touched in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off this kinkmeme prompt:  
> 'It could be human!AU or not, it doesn't matter. They just need to have phone sex.
> 
> \+ Bunny does the talking (I mean THAT VOICE THAT ACCENT)  
> \+ Bunny's needed to get somewhere else - like a broom closet or whatever - because he's in a (semi) public place  
> \+ it's not the first time'
> 
> This is also based off a teacher!Aster/student!Jack AU I've had for a while, maybe someday I'll write more on that.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~i promised myself i'd keep these pg and then this one happened goddamn it GODDAMN IT~~

Jack picks up on the second ring.

 

“You're going to get me in trouble.” Aster rasps into his cellphone. He jams the supply room's door lock into place and hunkers down on the floor, glad it's recently been mopped. It wouldn't do to return to the classroom with dustbunnies and lint clinging to his slacks. 

 

He doesn't know how he's going to get back to the classroom decent again- wanking off in an unused closet like a hormonal sixteen year old is the peak of his unprofessional career. It'd almost be something to laugh at if he weren't so goddamn hard, pawing at himself through his clothing like he hasn't been touched in months.

 

And this is all happening because Jack is a _horrible_ tease and has been sending Aster nudes when he should be in bed, because he stayed home 'sick.'

 

The last picture had been one of Jack's hip, sheeted with Aster's own bedclothes- the little fucker had snuck into his apartment- again- and sent a relentless stream of photos while Aster had been teaching- _again_.

 

Jack's laugh is staticky over the connection; Aster closes his eyes and imagines that puff of breath waxing gently over his ear. “I'm not the one calling.”

 

“No,” He allows, unbuckling his belt, “But you're the one what started this all in the first place.”

 

“Whatever.” Jack says dismissively, and there's the sound of rustling. His voice takes on that low tone he reserves just for Aster, the one where he sounds like he's just got out of bed and he wants nothing more than to be fucked. “Talk to me, Bun-Bun.”

 

Aster cups himself through his boxer-briefs; his cock bulges happily there, aching. He lets his voice drop as well, pictures Jack shuddering in pleasure. He remembers the first time he held Jack after class, when he'd been angry enough to scold Jack for his behavior and the way he'd seen the boy shiver underneath his hoodie almost imperceptibly, his fingers tightening on his arms. “Thought I told you not to call me that.”

 

“You call me Frostbite. I say we're even.”

 

A chuckle drifts out of his throat. Aster runs the heel of his palm roughly down his shaft, quick swipes of movement that leave his hips rocking dangerously. “What do you want me to do to you when I get home?” He prompts, and Jack lets out a breathy laugh.

 

“Want you to fuck me as hard as you can.” A short little moan follows after, spinning Aster's mind like a top. “I wanna scream. Want you to hurt me."

 

“ _Fuck_.” Aster hisses, squeezing himself. He shoves down his boxer-briefs and takes himself in hand, slow and rough. “I'll do that for you, love. Anything you want.”

 

“Everything- god, all of it." Jack sighs out a laugh, his voice shaky and intercepted with breathy groans of arousal. "Goddamn it, why aren't you here with me." 

 

"You know I'd get there in a heartbeat, if I could." Aster lets his head fall back against the wall, jerking one shoulder up to keep his phone in place as he braces himself, pulling at his cock. He is careful to speak low; though the door is locked there is still the chance someone else could have a spare key.

 

It's dead silent wherever Jack is: his breaths are loud, his little gasps echoing neatly through the call.

 

“I'm gonna fuck you against the kitchen table.” Aster groans out, brushing his fingers past his base to stroke his balls. It's terribly wrong, what he's doing (not just his workplace- a school), but he can't bring himself to reason now, not when Jack's whimpering in delight over the call. “I'll make you scream so loud the neighbors will know how hard you take it from me. They'll hear everything, but they'll know you're mine and no one can have you but me.”

 

Jack whimpers out a curse, and Aster can so easily see him bucking into their bedsheets, fingering himself and wishing it was Aster's cock there in their place. The vision makes him growl. “You close?”

 

“God, yes.” Another high whimper, the sound of a choked breath. “I wish you were here- want you here on top of me, want you to let me suck you off.”

 

Aster grits his teeth and pinches himself around the base, trying to hold off a little longer even though he can feel his control slipping away, fast. He loves when Jack talks back; nothing turns him on more than Jack begging, audibly aching for a rough fuck. “I'll be there in a few hours.” He promises, purring out the syllables. “Open yourself up for me 'til you're nice and wet before I get home. Gonna fuck you hard as I can.”

 

Jack's voice begins to break up, cracking in his desperation. “Fffuck.” He mumbles, and Aster jerks himself faster, hissing as his seed spurts out past his fingers. “Fucking _yes_ -.”

 

His vision goes white after that, and shortly after he hears Jack cry out, moaning as he milks himself dry to the thought of Aster fucking him senseless.

 

Things go quiet over the phone except for the sound of Jack's breathing slowing again, the rustling of sheets as he moves. Now that things have gone a little calmer, Aster feels some of that shame dredge up again, the same thing that's clung to him since he started seeing Jack, his much _younger_ **student**. "Shit." Aster mutters, pulling himself upright and trying to keep from spilling his already dripping handful of come on the floor. Cradling his phone in his shoulder again, he strains his unoccupied hand upwards, knocking a roll of paper towels off the shelf above him and ripping off a sheet to clean his hand. 

 

"You're not mad." Jack states, and Aster shakes his head, lips twitching in disbelief because he's right. 

 

"No, I'm not."

 

There's laughter in his ear; Jack sounds pleased, impatient. It's too easy to picture him lying on Aster's bed, legs spread limply, one hand holding his phone as the other drags curious fingers through the comestains on his belly. He lets out a happy moan, the kind that indicates he's stretching in that intoxicating way of his that pulls his muscles taut, makes Aster want to pin him like that and lap at the line of his neck. "I want more." He tells Aster. "Can't you pretend there's an emergency? Get a substitute to fill in for you?"

 

Aster groans, already taken by the idea. A glance at his phone's clock tells him it's only 11AM- maybe he can make up some silly excuse, have someone back up for him. It's a day off his vacation week but what's that compared to a day with Jack in his apartment, in his sheets?

 

He sighs, trying to sound as reluctant as possible. "I'll be there in thirty minutes." He says. "Remember what I said- get yourself ready."

 

"I'm on it." Jack says, and hangs up.

 

It takes Aster a few minutes to clean and arrange the supply closet to make it look like he was never there. Before he leaves, he presses his ear to the door, makes sure there's no one outide before carefully slipping out and going for the bathroom to clean off. After he's gotten a substitute and alerted the office of his quick leave, he's only just stepped out onto the parking lot before his phone chirps several times in a row, the notification light blinking a happy green.

 

It's a good thing he waits until he's in his car to check, because the pictures Jack has sent are lewder than the ones from before, and Aster's body immediately responds. 

 

He texts Jack a warning.

 

**To: J. Frost, 11:38 AM:** _no more pictures, you'll give me a bloody heart attack_

 

He's at a red light when an answer comes, accompanied with three more pictures. 

 

**From: J. Frost, 11:42 AM:** _just trying to keep the mood going_

**To: J. Frost, 11:43 AM:**   _i'm DRIVING_

**From: J. Frost, 11:49 AM:**   _not like that's stopped you before_

_  
_Aster ends up ignoring his phone for the rest of the drive, determinedly thinking of anything but Jack. It works well enough, and because there is no traffic he makes it to his apartment in less time than he'd warned Jack. Even so, once he's parked and gone up the steps, keys in hand, he's not even given the chance to put the key to the lock before his door swings open and a pale hand grips his tie, yanking him inside into a fierce kiss.

 

"You and those _bloody_ pictures." Aster moans, cupping Jack's backside as the teen grinds up against him, naked except for the bedsheet he carries wrapped around himself. "You're going to get me fired."

 

Jack grins, fingers working at the knot of Aster's tie. "No, I was just trying to get you _here_." He says, like it was that obvious. He tugs Aster's tie off of his neck, sends it sprawling to the floor as he takes the teacher by the hand, leading him to the bedroom. They fall together in a heated mess, Jack mumbling "Mission accomplished, see?" into Aster's lips as they rub against each other, kissing hard.

 

He does see.

 


	3. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grows to dislike Easter because it keeps Bunnymund away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off this kinkmeme prompt: 'Basically, Jack is lonely. He's happy and in love with Bunny (they got together after '68), but when Easter swings around, he gets the cold shoulder while Bunny gets busy with his holiday. And most spirits don't want much to do with him, and he hasn't even MET any of the other guardians. 
> 
> I want a fic that touches on that, that Jack has literally no one except Bunny, and by no fault of his, he can get clingy and insecure and angsty and scared, and I really want Bunny to feel guilty when he realizes how screwed up and dependent the world has turned Jack Frost into.'

He grows to dislike Easter because it keeps Bunnymund away from him.  
  
For months now Jack has watched and sat to the side as Bunny lined up his eggs, painting each one painstakingly by hand because he liked as many of them to be handcrafted as possible. It's only when he's really out of time that he uses the quicker process.  
  
He helps, if only to ease the guardian's workload. Painting as fast as he can, Jack likes that the work distracts him from the loneliness, from not having Bunny's attention on him- because even when Jack is helping, Bunny only has eyes for the eggs, lost in a world of his own that doesn't involve the young winter spirit.  
  
For this, Jack makes up with touches. His own emotions don't stand a chance against being believed in (because then there would be no Bunnymund, and how could he live like that?) or against the happiness of children around the world. He tries to atone with gentle rubs to Bunnymund's back, soothing kisses to his lips and needy massages when he lies back, sore, in the grass for a rest.   
  
It's not his fault he gets carried away.   
  
“Jack, wait.” Bunnymund stammers as Jack slips atop him, bucking slender hips against his groin and stroking over him until he's hard (that had been the one time Bunnymund had finally relented, letting Jack ride him hard and clutching at him lovingly, and oh, it had been such addictive stuff). He warded off the touches with exhausted but gentle stays of his paw, almost streaking Jack's sweater sleeve with paint. “I'll be done soon, then-” But Jack hadn't let him finish- he'd rocked against Bunny until the latter growled and dug in deep, and for those precious few minutes he could pretend that nothing had changed.  
  
But when he does finish, it's only mere seconds before he falls dead asleep, arms going loose around Jack in the dark of their nest.   
  
In that time, there is nothing for Jack to do.   
  
He knows no one else, does not have any other friends or companions to spend time with. Bunny often speaks of others, other 'guardians' but Jack doesn't know them. He doesn't care to know anyone else, because he wants to spend all of his time with Bunny, the only one who ever noticed and the only one who will ever matter.  
  
During spring is when he has Bunny least of all, however, and it stings endlessly at him; he begins to fear that he will lose Bunnymund after all and it claws at him at the most unexpected of times.   
  
It's selfish and childish of him, and he understands, he really does.  
  
That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less.  
  
After this year's Easter, it takes another frustrating handful of days before Bunnymund is himself again. He sleeps through a good three days and wakes on the fourth, eats ravenously and goes for a run round the Warren to stretch his limbs.   
  
When he comes back to pull Jack into his chest happily, he is surprised at the tears, and Jack almost hates him for it.   
  
“What's wrong?” He asks, worried.  
  
Jack just clings to him tightly, because now all he can think about is how relieved he feels at having Bunnymund, away from that wretchedly time-consuming holiday and how he's already trying to calculate how much more time he has with the Pooka until next Easter.  
  
“Stay with me.” Jack pleads, flinging his arms around Bunnymund's neck and nearly crawling up onto him, shivering with tense fear when Bunnymund holds him tight.   
  
And when Bunnymund kisses him and makes love to him and indulgently holds him back, squeezing and stroking and nuzzling, Jack feels sinfully pleased with himself, satisfied at the guilt he reads in Bunny's eyes.


	4. comments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They live a life of brilliance, half of it online.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite prompts! I wish I'd had more time to do this one as I had to rush it and I'm juggling enough fics already, but it was fun to do. :^) I also don't follow/watch many vlogs at all so I am pretty unversed on the world of YouTube and such.
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt: 'Okay, So, Jack hosts a webshow on youtube, preferably something like Danisnotonfire or Tobuscus, maybe even RWJ if you think he'd have that kind of Viral video feel to it. 
> 
> Anyway, Jack is internet famous, but doesn't have many friends irl, Cue either Bunny or Pitch sending him a simple message, one thats not 'OMG TOTES LOVE THE SHOW U CUTE' or 'HAHA FUNNY MAN' or a general response to his videos, but directed at him, a simple 'hello'.
> 
> The two become great friends, maybe even something more? Skype chats, late nights, helping plan the show together, etc. They finally get a chance to meet, of course Jack VLogs the whole trip, excited, bubbly, ADORABLE. However, there is one obbsessed fan that gets crazy jelous, Starts sending hate to Bunny and flirts with Jack over messages, the flirting starts becoming really creepy etc and Jack is freaking out over the whole dillema.
> 
> tl;dr: Jack is a famous webshow host, makes a good online friend-boyfriend, crazy obbsessive fan stalks Jack and hates his boyfriend.'

After a long five minutes of the camera's focus just swiveling around the waiting area and a crowd of bored strangers, it snaps to attention at the boarding deck and then droops in disappointment at the false alarm.

 

He goes back to answering questions from the viewers, his voice high with anticipation.

 

Jack stops when a notification appears over the website layout: his eyes widen after he reads it, and then he's up and scrambling to the wide window, almost forgetting to tap the screen to let the camera focus in on the large aircraft that's wheeling slowly down the airway.

 

Nose pressed against the glass childishly, breath clouding the previously clean window, he is breathless. The sky is a little cloudy outside, but it does nothing to wreck his mood.

 

"That's his plane just landed!” He says excitedly to the camera. "He's here!"

 

The chat area of the site erupts into various typed out exclamations and emoticons.

 

It takes another five minutes of nervous talking and answering comments before people begin to flood out of the entrance gate, all looking utterly exhausted and jetlagged.

 

He lets out continuous strings of “Oh my god, oh my god oh jesus christ,” as he watches them leave, holding up his phone so that his audience can watch as well and help him find his visitor. The camera shows shoulders and heads; people have begun to crowd around the baggage claim and the exit gate, waiting and holding signs for their visitors and loves ones.

 

Not surprisingly, he sees him before the camera does, and when they meet, the feed nearly cuts out from the sheer shrillness of Jack's scream.

 

The camera's view shakes wildly; static shows up on the live feed of his viewers' screens, and the audio cuts out a little. His viewers are greeted with a terrible mish-mash of events: after the scream, there's the unmistakeable sound and view of running feet (he should really have worn his newer sneakers), and camera blurs across the airport's carpet, flashing small glimpses of suitcases and strangers' legs and feet. Then there's the sound of an excited 'Jack!' and a  _whump_  of two bodies colliding.

 

“You're here!” He shouts, bouncing excitedly, latching onto the new arrival.

 

The fault with a camera is that it can only show so much: as it clicks and tries to focus its view, the audience misses the way the two of them are trembling, nervous because they are meeting in person for the first time, because they are so excited and because it all seems so unreal. The camera fails to pick up on the ambiance around them: it is heavy with disbelief and amazement,  _love_.

 

They hug and exclaim over each other, and Jack has to hand off his phone to a stranger to record ('-could you please?? I'm sorry, it's just- I promised my viewers- yeah, it's still recording-”) and instantly latches back onto the newcomer, hugging him tight.

 

Aster, originally known to Jack as ea_bunny on comment feeds, smiles wide, grabs Jack by the waist and pulls him up onto his toes for a kiss, their first since they met online two years ago.

 

It's a pretty regular sight for an airport, but online-

 

they can't see it, the way the chat section of the livestream blows up. The stranger holding the camera smiles, touched at the display.

 

 

*

 

 

They take a taxi to Jack's apartment. The whole way there, they hold hands and smile, and Jack gushes endlessly. He's sitting as physically close to Aster as possible, because as much as he wants sit in Aster's lap he'd rather not have them all pulled over for violating some traffic law.

  


“I can't believe it- I can't  _fucking_  believe it, you're here, oh my god.” He exclaims, touching Aster's cheek wondrously. “Holy  _shit_ , I never thought-”

 

Aster laughs, a sound he's heard before only over Skype calls. The real thing is deeper, more accented, more loose. He nuzzles into Jack's palm, tugs him closer to kiss the top of his head. “What, did you think I'd change my mind and throw myself out of the plane?”

 

“It might've crossed my mind at one point, probably!” Jack laughs.

 

His phone sits in his jacket pocket, switched off for now. Later, he'll check on the livestream's stats, but he can't even begin to care about that now. He has Aster here.  _Here_.

 

“Well, in that case it seems you don't know me at all.” Aster says, mock hurt. He raps his knuckles against the grimy plastic that separates the backseat from the cabdriver. “He's lied to me! Take us back to the airport, I'm finished here!”

 

“No!” Jack laughs, catching Aster's hand and bringing it back to his lips to kiss. The cab driver watches from the rear-view mirror, eyebrows raised in confusion. “You're staying with me, Bunny!”

 

“...Back to the airport, then?” The driver asks, and Aster laughs as Jack shakes his head vehemently and supplies his address once again.

 

 

*

 

 

Jack's apartment is a thousand times better with Aster in it.

 

They fall into his bed, arms around each other and mouths wide with laughter.

 

“This is a right dream, isn't it?” Aster asks, staring up at the ceiling. He's got Jack's head tucked in the crook of his neck, his breaths ruffling the silvery hair. “Crikey, I'm in the  _States_.”

 

Jack grins wide. “No.” He rolls onto his side to snuggle closer. They're going to take a quick nap here, before Aster gets to unpacking or before they go do a little sight-seeing. Aster's body screams jetlag, and the way his eyes are already drooping is proof enough. “You're with  _me_.” He says, like that makes sense. Like that's more important than Aster's arrival to a new country, state and city and culture.

 

Aster understands. He smiles, and kisses Jack again.

 

 

*

 

 

They live a life of brilliance, half of it online.

 

Where they once spent hours on Skype calls and chat rooms and YouTube comments and emails, now they do it, unbelievably, face to face, side by side, hand in hand.

 

It's something neither of them ever thought would happen, not for real. They'd each dreamt about it in their own way, imagining just what the other would say and smell and feel like. In the two years they'd known each other online, they'd grown close, and when they'd daringly decided to take it further, they'd spent even more time together online. In those days, job and friendless, Jack lived for their Skype calls, the long nights of silly messages that becamse more serious and affectionate as time wore on. Now, they are together and it  _is_  real, and the excitement fails to wear off. They joke and kiss and laugh and tease each other, and that same chemistry they'd sparked online is ten times more magnetic in real life.

 

Aster begins to appear in Jack's videos.

 

He was never much of a YouTuber- people only recognize him because Jack's been talking about him for so endlessly long. At first, he only shows up once- Jack makes an update vlog the day after Aster arrives, and it's there that he finally gets to sit on Aster's lap, the two of them squished in the chair and laughing and smiling and holding onto each other like they'll die if they let go.

 

After that, he keeps to the background, content with watching and listening. As Jack talks to his camera and fiddles with his keyboard, Aster walks by and squeezes his shoulder, ruffles his hair on his way to the kitchen. He's a disembodied voice from another room, a laugh or a teasing call that makes Jack's smile widen for the world to see.

 

When he sits with Jack again, it's his eighth video since Aster's arrival and neither of them know it at the time, but after that he is there to stay.

 

The comments fill up with smiley faces and congratulations and hellos to Aster, questions on their relationship. There are the usual idiotic types with crude words and insults, but they never pay those any mind.

 

 

*

 

 

Jack shows Aster everything.

 

He acts as his personal tour guide, gives him maps and silly little souvenirs. Armed with their cameras, they go on a storm of sightseeing, and it makes Jack wish that he had access and the money to see every important and best thing the United States has to offer, because he wants Aster to see it all. They get passes for museums, get heckled by people passing out ads and flyers, watch street performers and stop at drugstores to bask in the airconditioning and rest their tired feet before plunging out into the busy streets again, weaving past crowds to get a good look at Times Square.

 

Out of all the souvenirs Aster brought Jack, the most breathtaking is the boomerang, something he has polished and perched on the most perfect spot on his bookcase, right near his desk. It's made of dark wood, carved intricately with serpent-like patterns and long-footed rabbits, small flowers. He'd long before explained to Jack that his father used to make boomerangs; he himself doesn't know how to, but he likes to carve them.

 

He regrets that he can't get Aster anything as beautiful, and when he confesses as much Aster laughs, tugging him into a kiss. "That's a silly thing to worry about." He tells Jack. "You've given me enough already."

  


Still, Jack tries  making up for that by making Aster's trip as memorable as possible. He exhausts them both with their endless running around, laughs and snaps several hundreds of candids of Aster. Best of all is when he tries teaching Aster to emulate an American accent; in the middle of a chain restaurant, he falls out of his chair whooping with laughter, face red as Aster scowls down at him.

 

“It wasn't that bad,” He says, but he ends up laughing too.

 

They don't always go always go out. Some days, when they're sore and recovering from a full day of exploring or when they're just feeling lazy, they'll stay in. They order pizza and watch TV, make more videos and look through the pictures they've taken. Each day they fall deeper into something with universally revered name, and one night when they are relaxing in a small pizza joint, Jack leans in to steal some pepperoni off his slice when he pauses, realizing out of the blue just how long they have been in love.

 

Aster laughs, snagging a bit of mushroom off Jack's slice. “You felt that, too?”

 

 

*

 

 

“This guy keeps commenting on my videos saying you're not worth my time.” Jack says, scowling at his screen.

 

“Internet low-life.” Aster rolls his eyes. “Aren't you used to it by now, though? People saying stupid things and the like on your videos?”

 

“Yeah, but this is different.” Jack declares, turning back to look at his Australian where he's lying on Jack's bed, his own laptop open before him. “They're talking shit about  _you_ , and I don't like that.”

 

His heart jumps every time Aster smiles. In a minute, he'll get up and curl up beside his boyfriend, run his fingers through his hair and thank his stars that he's had such luck in finding happiness.

 

“They'll always be talking shit, love.” Aster reminds him patiently, in that calm and rational way he loves. “Doesn't mean we have to listen.”

 

Jack agrees, and flags the comment as spam.

 

 

*

 

 

Jack's channel gains suscribers. The hits and ratings go up and up and up and none of it matters to Jack anymore, because now he has Aster.

 

He'd originally started the channel as a way to pass time. Jack has trouble making friends- he didn't have many to start with. His life had been close to desolate in that time, so he'd searched for a new hobby, preferably one that was time-consuming. Creating and editing videos did just that: it was a way for him to vent, and it was a way for him to connect. It's fun, and he gets to interact with people all over the world. It's also how he met Aster, and he's especially thankful for that.

 

It makes him happier than he's ever known- Aster fills his apartment, fills his days with laughter and bad jokes and leaves quick little sketches in his wallet when he's not looking. Where before there was nothing there's Aster, and bright, happy noise. When they go out, driving and walking past places Jack has known for years, he sees it all in a new light, like he's gained Aster's new point of view and things are shiny again, unexplored and happy.

 

His channel reaches an astounding number of suscribers, and someone on the YouTube staff takes notice.

 

 

*

 

 

Aster catches sight of his framed congratulations letter from the YouTube offices one morning; he's still smiling up at it when Jack enters the room, holding his phone's charger in one hand. “Isn't it weird?” He asks, plugging his phone in and setting it on his desk.

 

“It's amazing is what I was thinking.” Aster replies, letting out a soft chuckle as Jack walks right into his arms and cuddles his chest. “If it hadn't been for that site and your videos I wouldn't know you at all.”

 

That's exactly what Jack had been thinking; he smiles, rubbing his palms up and down Aster's back. For the millionth time, he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. "I'll send them a 'thank you' letter back." He says. "I want you to sign it."

 

The Australian smiles, circling his fingers around Jack's wrists and kissing the soft white undersides of each. It's a small gesture but it makes Jack's heart soften and sets it trembling with want, and love. "There's something I haven't told you." He says after a moment.

 

Jack knows right away what he's talking about. 

 

As of this point, Aster has been with Jack almost a month and a half. His return ticket is set for nearly two weeks away, but they can both already feel it drawing far too close, a steel blade come to separate them when they have waited and clung to each other for so long. They don't acknowledge it with words, but as every morning brings them closer to that date, their kisses become a little harder, their nights a little more melancholy.

 

"Can't you stay?" He asks, face going a little hot at his forwardness. "I have space. You can live with me."

 

It's the life he's been dreaming of for almost a year now, since they first shared that confession of interest online. A life of affection and curled hands, sleeping with a stubbly chin perched on his shoulder, waking to rumpled sheets and the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. He smiles, a little awkwardly because as hard as he is trying to keep his lip from trembling, it's showing. "I don't want you to leave."

 

Aster's lips ghost over his hairline, his arms enveloping Jack and broad hands rubbing the small of his back. he feels like a home Jack has never known before, the perfect shelter he'd always yearned for. "I don't want to leave, either."

 

"So stay." Jack says simply.

 

He does.

 

 

*

 

 

He does end up having to go back to Australia, but that's just to sell off some of his things and tie up some loose ends. He packs what he doesn't need and leaves it with a relative, says goodbye to family and promises to call. Bringing what is most necessary and what he can't part with, Aster takes another flight back to the States.

 

The process takes three weeks, but it feels longer. 

 

 

*

 

 

When he returns, Jack is beside himself. Standing just past the arrivals gate surrounded by strangers and luggage and news-channel TVs and rows of uncomfortable chairs, they kiss and murmur to each other, hands sliding and stroking hair and cheeks and lips. 

 

"Welcome back." Jack says, and Aster laughs, presses a perfectly intact seashell into his hand. 

 

In his apartment, things are like Aster never left, and they're both grateful for it. Now that they're together again everything is just as amazing as it was before, and even more so because there is no impending knowledge of departure. They kiss with lazy leisure, hauling in Aster's luggage behind them and pretending it's just plastic bags of souvenirs. 

 

Later, as Aster's unpacking, Jack vlogs. He's bouncing in his chair practically, beaming and more than occasionally looking over his shoulder at Aster. "He's over there, see?" He asks the camera; Aster chuckles under his breath, glances briefly to see Jack angling the webcam so that it's pointing at him. 

 

"He's moving in with me!" Jack crows, bragging unashamedly. "That's right guys, I am now officially taken _and_ living with the guy who is not only of my dreams, but also probably the hottest on the planet."

 

"Oi." Aster chides, looking up from the shirts he's unloading from his duffel bag. "'Probably'?"

 

Jack laughs, and turns off the camera so that he can push Aster gently down on the bed. "I didn't mean it." He says, straddling Aster's hips and catching his lips apologetically. Dropping the shirt he'd been folding, Aster moans, clutches with one hand at Jack's nape and guides his hips over his groin. "Forgive me?"

 

"Y'don't even have to ask." Aster grunts, lips curling into a smile as he draws Jack closer yet.

 

 

*

 

 

Some fans (or one in particular) don't take the news well. 

 

One goes so far as to send Jack anonymous angry comments, spamming his inbox with creepy hate towards Aster and awful passes at Jack. As he goes through them, Jack marks each for deletion, scrolling through the pile of them until his inbox is finally hate-free. Emptying his trash folder, he hopes that will be the last of it and sighs as Aster rubs his back.

 

"Just someone with too much time on their hands." He tells Jack. "Don't worry, love."

 

"I'm not worrying, it's just.." Jack tries to think of the appropriate word, and ends up snuggling closer to Aster instead. He tucks himself into the warmth of Aster's arms, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. He'll never tire of the way Aster feels against him, robust and lively, the way he smells like green grass and ocean and faintly of flowers. "...it's... what was I talking about?"

 

"You were talking about how perfect you are." Aster fills in for him, taking Jack's hands in his and resting them against Jack's heartbeat. "How much I love you, and how bloody lucky I am to have you."

 

"That is _not_ what I was saying!" Jack laughs, but his heart jumps into his throat giddily, makes him claim Aster's lips again and again. "But, just for the record, it's totally likewise."

 

Aster laughs, the sound loud, clear, and infectious. "I'm glad." He says, and takes Jack in his arms. He settles them both onto Jack's bed, where they curl up together, hands glued at the palms, their own type of kiss.

 

 

*

 

 

The comments don't stop, but neither do they, and that's what matters most. 

 

 


	5. here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! No prompt for this, just something I typed up alongside some other drafts. I'll probably revisit these/add more if there's another Jackrabbit Week some other time- thank you all for reading, leaving kudos and commenting!

He likes Jack best in his Warren, because that is when he is liveliest.

 

 

Maybe it is a part of himself he reserves for only when he is there; Bunnymund is too busy being in love to notice.

 

In this perpetual alcove of spring, Jack's skin glows in the sunlight and it makes him beautiful, alive, pink. His eyes melt to warm oceans Bunnymund wants to wade into; his body loosens and warms. When they touch he drags his hands through Bunnymund's fur and they feel light as the drop of flower petals against his shoulders, right as rain. Leaving his pasty pallor for a newer, brighter glow that makes him look achingly young, Jack soaks in the sunshine, grows more invigorated than ever and cartwheels and races along the trees, throws himself into the rivers and comes out colorstained, cheeks bright with his smile. 

 

Once, it scared him to have Jack here. That first day, when he'd brought in the other guardians for help, he'd brought Jack for the first time, and he had been acutely aware of his presence, waiting on some disaster to strike, on some prank or trick to be taken one step too far.

 

The Warren, alert to this paranoia, kept Jack busy with egglets and finding his way around, distanced him carefully from where Bunnymund's nest lay (because how could that be, that his first time there he had seen Jack venturing too close in its direction, looking about as if he knew there was a home hidden?).

 

Now, trust has been gained and more besides, and Jack belongs here. He's not sure if Jack can feel it, the way the Warren speaks to him. He's new to this all, of course, but there's just something so open to Jack, something that makes him feel as though he should have been here all along. It makes Bunnymund sorry he didn't acknowledge the boy sooner, but there's no helping that now.

 

“I love it here.” Jack tells him one day, sprawled in the grass. Egglets hop along his sweatshirted arms, ducking to roll down his sides and nudge him for a lift back up. Bunnymund is right beside him, watching and stroking a nearby butterfly's wing.

 

He recalls the way the Warren has grown warmer with this new presence. When Jack walks by, plants unfurl from the earth, flowers lean towards his smile. The sentinels hum and watch over him, let this little earthling-turned-spirit perch on their ancient stone heads. In a language Jack cannot hear nor understand, they tell Bunnymund he is equally as receptive to life, that he has spring woven along his fingertips, hidden beneath delicate frost.

 

The grass beneath Jack shifts slightly as a daffodil sprouts just by his cheek. Bunnymund watches the boy exclaim and sigh in surprise at its prettiness, wills the new creation to bend and sweep its sunbright petals over a glowing cheek.

 

“Wait, what's this?” Jack asks.

 

He sits up, grabbing the curlicued tendrils of green ivy that have fluttered onto his sweatshirt, coiled precisely over his heart. Though Jack knows many languages and symbols, Bunnymund knows this is one he will not. The lettering is ancient, almost glyphic in some areas, a reverberation of a world that once was. Jack frowns at it, lips moving as he tries tracing and deducing what sounds these odd characters might make.

 

Bunnymund pretends not to notice as Jack looks up at him, confused and intrigued. He knows Jack has recognized this as some symbolic gesture, but does not understand of what.

 

The ivy's lettering, neat and nondescript and framed over his heart, reads _I love you here_.

 

Someday, Jack will learn to read it.

 


End file.
